Hope in Survival - The Last of Us tie-in story
by VideoGameFanfictionFTW
Summary: Set in the same world as the post-apocalyptic masterpiece from Naughty Dog, "The Last of Us", a teenage girl is running from the infectious monsters that ravaged her family and so much of humanity. While on the run, she searches for her sister, missing since the infection spread.
_**Hope in Survival**_

 _A fanfiction tie-in to the PlayStation video game "The Last of Us"_

It's a restful night. Curled up in my foxhole, in the chill soil of the forest, I enter a deep sleep, backpack clutched in my lap. My old life, in a slideshow of memories, cascades through my subconscious - watching movies late at night with friends, messing around at school, pranking my neighbors and spending time with my family. All that changed when civilization shattered. I was 16 when humanity was struck by a fungal infection that transformed people into misshapen, grotesque "things". The fragments of the human physique they retained were legs, arms and some sort of torso, while many had heads that looked like an exploded cauliflower. In the five months since then, I watched my parents die by their hands and my fourteen year old sister went missing. Where I believe she went was the town her best friend & her family lived, in Montana. She felt convinced she would be safer with them, yet she didn't have a clue if they were still alive. As such, I have had to survive without her company. It's been tough, but I've made it work, all the way from our hometown in West Virginia.

The morning hours approach as my slumber concludes. Thin rays of light permeate the logs and shrubbery that cover my foxhole. Though the temperature is still chilly, every ounce of light warms my body. As I awaken, I hear what I dread: a banshee-like scream. I get up fast

My heart hammers in my chest. Adrenaline charges through me. I hold my breath to listen for the creatures, if they are walking or running, but I hear nothing. I shove my backpack away from my chest and rise to my knees. Most of what I have on the ground I snatch and stuff into my backpack: my dwindling food supply, canteen, and a comic book. I shove my .44 magnum revolver into its leather holster, hooked to my dirty jeans, and my collapsible shovel buckled to the front of my backpack. I throw it on, secure its straps on my khaki jacket and squeeze through the logs of my shelter.

Another chorus of that horrid scream sounds off, closer than the last. _I gotta hurry, like right now. Go, GO,_ I think. I don't bother to look behind me; I just run.

In the shivering morning light, I clear a solid stretch of forest in a couple minutes. It ought to be enough distance for now, but that doesn't stop me. My legs ache, yet I know from experience that I can handle it. Already the forest has thinned out as I approach the tree line. One positive sign, then another: the town my sisters' friend lived, or so I thought, was just beyond the tree line. What a relief! I sure hope my sister is here...some way or another. This had better be worth the months running through the East and Midwest states.

The first house that catches my eye looks much like a mansion. It's a short run from my position. Scrambling up its large front steps, I reach for a brass doorknob on a heavy oak door. I turn it, rush inside, slam it shut and lock the deadbolt. My chest heaves as I gasp for air.

Moments later, I attempt to relax. Luckily, there is an armchair close to me. It beckons my weary body. I slip my backpack off and it plops on the dusty hardwood floor. The chair's cushion absorbs my body like a bean bag chair. _Man, this is comfy,_ I think.As it soothes my body, I gape at the scale of this dwelling.

It's one of the biggest houses I've ever stepped into. Fine pieces of furniture are placed throughout. My location appears to be some greeting room; an elk's skull hangs from above the entryway. Opposite it, on another wall next to the staircase, are four more elk skulls.A brick fireplace, open on both ends connecting the greeting room to the family and entertainment room, sat below. Inside, burnt firewood lay in a stack of three. I call it fancy, but to any wealthy person, this is normal. And oddly enough, for a house abandoned in the last five or so months, it appears to be in remarkable shape. _Alright, enough gazing in awe,_ I think, _I need food and water. The kitchen is the first place to look._

Easy enough to find, the kitchen and dining area are as fancy as everything else. Situated right behind the family and entertainment room, I approach the kitchen cabinets. _Sigh... No food, save some scraps on the counter and central island. I'll look elsewhere. Maybe it's hidden? I bet they have a pantry or some kind of basement,_ I wonder.

A thick rug cushions my feet as I enter the dining room. There is a faint squeak; worn out wood bending under my weight. I rock on my feet. Further squeaks accompany each movement. I slide the rug away with my feet, revealing a concealed door and latch. The door's oak body weighs almost as much as me; it takes considerable effort to lift. It thuds loudly onto the dining room floor, revealing grey concrete steps; the aromas of sea salt and lemon juice welcoming me. I zip down the stairs, just about tripping on the last step, and smile in relief.

Light shines down through a small square window in front of me, and I spot what I yearn: fresh fruit in a large Ziploc bag, loaves of bread wrapped in cloth, some meat in a saltbox and in paper bags, two big water bottles, and a large hatchet in better shape than my own. There is even a washboard, leaning up against the concrete wall. In the center of this room is a thick wooden table. It is notched and bruised through years of use. Maybe a hand-me-down from relatives? Doesn't matter. It's convenient, and that's all I care about. I lay my backpack on it to reorganize it with my new supplies.

Once I repack and sling on my load, I realize I have been in this house longer than I thought. I got comfortable enough that I neglected to check if those monsters are outside pursuing me. _Crap. I need to check they aren't around, since I might stay here for a bit. Heck, I can look for spare clothes. I never know how fortunate I can get,_ I think.

I hike back up the pantry steps, to scan the windows from the kitchen. I proceed back to the front door and reopen it. I am relieved: nothing's outside. My breaths slow down and the adrenaline subsides. Now time to locate fresh clothes...if I get lucky. As long as they fit a sixteen year old girl, I don't care what they look like. Checking the second floor is a good place to start.

The second floor stairs are large, but handrails make it easy to ascend. At the top, I turn right. Far along the extensive hallway, a handful of doors are either cracked or fully open. I'll take that as a positive sign; no monsters. But, there are small crumbs on the wood floor. That is strange. _If there is no one here, where's the food from?_ I ponder. Could it be? My suspicion might prove true!

I creep up to the third door on the left. It's cracked open enough that sunlight pours through. Careful not to make a sound, in case I alert or frighten someone other than a monster, I place a hand cautiously on the door. It eases open and I call out my sister's name.

"Linda...are you there? It's me...Kelley."

 _My gosh..._

I peer to the left after the door is wide open. Upon what I discover, I drop to my knees and my eyes welled with tears. I will never forget it.

On my knees, I scramble to her side. Linda's sleeping soundly in front of an empty bookshelf. I must wake her so she knows I'm here. Lifting her off the carpet, I cradle and squeeze her intensely.

"I've missed you so much! You have no idea how long it's taken me to find you!"

My sister gradually awakes, alert to my presence. Her jaw gapes, tears form in her ocean blue, diamond shaped eyes, and she clings to me.

"Kelley!"

For seconds, I don't move or say a word; I hold her in my arms. Whatever she dealt with in the past, she can leave behind. I release her and she sits up on her knees. A couple more tears slide down her cheeks and a smile shoots across her lips. Her jeans have a couple small holes on her knee and thigh, her blue Abercrombie and Fitch shirt had faded spots, but the forest green jacket looked fresh. The hiking boots our parents gave to her for her fourteenth birthday were caked with mud.

"What's going on? You have some bruises." I trace one of the dark purple spots on her arm, careful not to press too hard. "How did you get those?"

"Got into a fistfight with those infected things. Discovered that they bite to infect... after I saw one of their victims. I had no way to kill it."

"But how did you escape?"

"I beat the crap out of it." Linda chuckled.

"Seriously?" I picture this in my head...her holding the infected one at bay...throwing her best shots...and knocking it down.

"I didn't think I would make it, but I got lucky. That was a week ago."

I wonder what happened in the months since I last saw Linda. That is a conversation we ought to have sometime. I gingerly brush my hands over her ears. "No need to worry. We'll work together now."

I relax and cross my legs on the carpet. We both feel at ease. She still sits on her knees, now drifting in thought, eyes staring off behind me.

"Yikes…", I lean forward to sniff her clothes, "your clothes smell, and", I sniff my armpits. ", so do mine. There's a washboard downstairs. Let's get that and look for running water."

I stand up and lend her a hand. I hoist her up, my arm around her shoulder. She begins to limp just a couple steps outside the door. "You alright? " I ask.

"Sort of. When I found this house, I slipped on the top step at the front door and hit my knee."

I stop at the top of the staircase and examine her leg. She winces as I roll up her jeans to her left knee. There is a small bruise right below it, but it's not as bad as I imagined.

"Did you get this after you fought the infected thing?" I ask.

"Yeah. Meh….could've been worse." She shrugs.

"Gotta be more careful. Here...use this in case we're in trouble next time, " I detach my new hatchet from my backpack and hand it to her, "I got this from the pantry. Better than my old one. Just don't lose it."

I rise to my feet and continue to help her down the stairs.

"Kelley, I'm not crippled. " Linda says.

"Sorry..."

My right arm shakes a bit. Linda notices and at the bottom step she removes my arm from her shoulder, "You're trembling...you okay?"

"Don't know...haven't considered it, " I reply. A chill draft seeps around the first floor; something is wrong. I feel lit, but I'm not sure what to make of it.

"We need water…let's check outside, " I said and looked for a back door. Linda is still limping and for the moment, I forget to hang back with her and help her walk.

"I'll wait here", Linda sighs. She slumped on the same armchair I sat on earlier.

I search the rooms on the first floor for a back door, and locate it across from the dining table. It's shut and locked. I kick it with my heel. _Thump...Thump...CRACK._ I break the lock, a crack forms in one of the eight glass panels and it squeaks open.

I return to my sister. "Found it. It's across from the dining table", pointing over my shoulder. She tries to stand, but the pain in her knee still bothers her.

"Okay. Ugh….ouch. Can it wait?"

"We can't wait too long. Didn't you feel fine earlier?" I ask.

"I thought so. Now I feel worse. Geez...What's the rush?" Linda says.

"I don't want to be caught off guard."

"We won't be, unless we hear them scream again. Can't we take it easy for a while? Catch up on the last few months? I understand that you're anxious and wanting to get out of here, but I don't feel great. I know we're safe here...for now," she says.

"I'm not in a rush, Linda. I'm always preparing for the next situation, good or bad. That's been my life for the last year. You don't seem to realize that. I missed you, and I'm relieved you're alive. I just don't want to stop waiting for the next troublesome scenario; I want to be prepared and moving on, " I say.

Linda rolled her eyes. "I can see that. You have been anxious since you opened the door upstairs. To me it's a waste. I checked this house well before you got here and found nothing. But say you're right. We get jumped by a horde of those monsters through every window and door. What do we have to defend ourselves with? Either I am right, and we are fine, or your guts are correct and we are in danger. Then what?"

I reveal our father's .44 Magnum revolver from my holster. Linda's eyes widen like a golf ball. That gets her off the chair. "Woah...how long have you had that?"

"Since mom and dad…"My thought broke off and I realized Linda didn't know.

"Since mom and dad what?" Her eyes glistened, recalling she never found out what happened.

"Since they died." I struggle to say it, but it needs to be said.

Linda closed her eyes and released a breath. "No," she whispers. "How?"

"Right after you left. That was when the infected things reached us from wherever they came from."

"Man," she looks to the side. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed with you from the beginning. You wouldn't have had to worry about me.

"You can't change what happened. It's the way it is."

I examine the revolver, careful to aim it away from her. "Dad told me when I turned sixteen where he kept it. Even let me have a spare key to access the gun safe. Guess he was really worried about something happening to us." She gives me an odd look. I ignore it and glance down to her shin. "Your shin feeling better?"

"No. But I'm surprised dad ever trusted you that far. What happened to the other gun? "

"The shotgun? Dad broke it...something about the 'pump slide'."

"What did he do with it?" Linda enquires.

"Gave it to the neighbor. I wish he kept it...it would prove extremely useful right now,"  
I answer.

Several seconds pass before Linda speaks up again, after I let her examine dad's revolver, "Do you have bullets for this?"

"A few. I was thinking about looking around here to find more, in case I get lucky. Speaking of which, let's check upstairs for fresh clothes. Could get lucky and find some shirts or pants...actually I'd love some socks. " I suggest.

"My clothes are fine, but fresh socks sound great." She agrees.

I help her from the armchair and start up the stairs again. We each take a side of the hallway and reveal our findings minutes later. I discover a pair of jeans and a couple of shirts, while Linda scored with four pairs of thick white socks. We take two pairs each and excitedly change out our old socks. They are warm and cozy. She also found a pair of maroon knit hats. _We got lucky this time,_ I think.

Heading back down stairs, I motion for Linda to follow me out the back door. An eerie silence fills the air, as if something would be lurking behind a corner outside the house. Occasional drops of rain plop on the stone sidewalk surrounding the house. Since we were inside a couple hours, an afternoon sun punctures through grey clouds above. Now I realize I forgot the washboard.

"Hold on a second…" I run back to the open pantry and grab the washboard.

I return to find Linda several feet from where I left her. She's slow, but that's a good sign nonetheless.

"Walking without your escort, are we?" I grin. She looks back and returns my smile.

Around the corner at the back of the house, we come to an old wooden shed. About the size of a small walk-in closet, its deep brown finish matches the house. Many tall weeds surround it, and the door is cracked open. Linda is curious, but I feel cautious. She approaches the door and barely gets it part way open when a misshapen figure jumps out.

"AAArrrgggggghhh! Kelley look out!"

I am stunned to find one of them hiding out here. She already has my hatchet raised to defend herself as it lunges out of the shed with ferocity. By the time I react, Linda has sunk the hatchet deep into its side. It knocks her down on the damp grass; she yanks the bloody hatchet out and buries it into its neck. I poise my .44 Magnum to take a shot, but I can't hit my sister. Alternatively, I drop to Linda's side; she continues to hack away at the monster's neck and shoulders. I shove the revolver's barrel to the creature's chest and fire twice. Its wriggling body shudders and bleeds as it rolls off Linda. One last shot to its forehead ends its attack. Its head pops like an overinflated balloon, blood and bits of bone mixed with brain tissue litter the grass. Linda lies on the ground shaken up, her bloodied hatchet still in her hand. I stand over the dead monster, revolver still at the ready. She looks to me, a bit of blood splattered on her face and chest.

"Thanks."

"Did it bite you?" I ask.

"Naw, but it got close." She grimaced and rubbed her ear. "That thing is loud." She nods to the .44 in my right hand.

Linda gets up without help; she's feeling good enough to walk on her own now. I'll still be close by just in case.

"Hey...there's a water pump, " She points to an old fashioned hand pump several meters away,

"That'll do."

I pick up the washboard I dropped, next to the headless zombie, and follow her to the curved pump handle. "Know how this works?"

She nods and kneels next to me. It's stubborn, but I easily move the pump handle. Several pumps later chill water gushes out of the nozzle, "Have any soap?"

"In my backpack. Stole it off of a dead guy two weeks ago. He had a bite mark on his right shoulder." She answers.

"Go get it so we can wash our clothes, and ourselves."

A couple minutes pass, and she returns with a backpack smaller than mine. Unzipping the rear compartment, she hands me a green rectangular box. I open it, and a bar of soap plops onto the grass. The scent of lavender occupied the air around us. We wash our clothes, and ourselves, after we discover towels in a storage box in the downstairs bathroom. We wrap ourselves with them. I decide to lay my clothes on the chairs in the dining room. Linda does the same. For some reason, I feel like she isn't telling me something; like she is scared to reveal what happened in the time since I last saw her. Perhaps she was hurt, or witnessed her friend mutilated to death by an infected one? She'll tell me when she is ready. Besides, she hasn't told me where her friend was since I didn't run by her when I first arrived.

"Oh...forgot to tell you: I found a map of this town. Got it from the same guy I took the soap from." Linda reveals.

"What? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I ask.

"My bad."

A map of this town will be super helpful. Maybe we can locate a survivor's campground near here! There is still daylight left to travel, even get to a safer place.

"Have you looked at it yet? Found any marked locations for a survivor's campground?"

"No, but that's a good thought."

She retrieves her backpack by the fireplace and presents a crinkled, folded map. Unfolding it, we look for anything...then she points out, "There. It looks like a few days' hike from here...and here, I am guessing, is where we are. Also, I heard that a girl with a possible immunity to the infected ones is on their way as well, along with an older man. Not sure if he's her dad, though."

"Where'd you hear that?" I ask.

"Some guy about three and a half weeks ago. I was sneaking around the remains of a ravaged survivor's camp, looking for food when I overheard them mention her. Her name is...oh what was it, "she snapped her fingers, "Ellie. That's right. The older man's name is Joel. Not sure what he has to do with her, though."

"Hmm...well, let's air dry our clothes overnight, and head out after breakfast tomorrow. Maybe we can refresh our supplies and see what else has survived. Maybe find out more about Ellie and Joel," I say.

The afternoon sun has aged. Deep grey clouds still cover the sky, and drizzly rain peppers the windows around this house, where my sister and I find solace. As the day wears on, we locate matches, firewood, and start a fire in the house's brick fireplace. We chat and laugh about anything: the past months, old memories from before the outbreak, and how nice it was to have clean socks on our feet. Linda dozes off next to me on the mattress we carried downstairs. She snoozed for half an hour before I rose from the mattress, careful not to wake her, and took a short walk. I rechecked the house for the monsters; upstairs was fine, downstairs and the pantry were also clear. I took a couple steps out the back door; the one I shot was decaying fast. Other than that, nothing appeared abnormal.

Our clothes were laid on the furniture behind the mattress. I laid my hands on my shirt and jeans; they were still damp. Linda's clothes felt drier, but not by much. For the first time in months, I could sleep without worry. Linda by my side made me feel comfortable and assured. Perhaps she was right; there was nothing to worry about at the moment. If there was one trait she always showed whoever she was around, it was her ability to not worry all the time, unlike me.

The fire crackled, a handful of sparks bloomed like 4th of July fireworks, and my eyes fluttered shut, taking with me the reassurance we would survive the coming chaos.


End file.
